


I'm feeling better ever since you know me (I was a lonely soul but that's the old me)

by echoes_of_realities



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/F, First Tour!Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-19
Updated: 2018-09-29
Packaged: 2019-06-29 12:10:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15729144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/echoes_of_realities/pseuds/echoes_of_realities
Summary: Brittany thinks that Santana Lopez is pretty much the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her entire life; and Brittany also thinks that she might kind of be in love with her. From the moment they met, that very first day of rehearsals for Mercedes Jones’ first ever tour, Brittany’s kind of become obsessed with making Santana smile.Santana thinks that Brittany is amazing, and really, really pretty, and a genius, and her best friend, and she’s maybe just the tiniest bit in love with her. She tries to hide it, but based on the third degree Mercedes always gives her, she isn’t doing a great job of it.Or: A collection of all the First Tour!Verse prompts.





	1. Pittsburgh

**Author's Note:**

> A place for all of the First Tour!Verse prompts, so those will be updated here now instead of in _I loved you in the darkness and I loved you in fluorescent light._
> 
> Title from "Feel Again" by OneRepublic.
> 
> Chapter titles based on where in the tour they are, even if the location's not mentioned.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> turtlepug337 asked: 5. “I can’t sleep. Can I sleep here?”

Brittany thinks that Santana Lopez is pretty much the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her entire life.

From the moment they met, that very first day of rehearsals for Mercedes Jones’ first ever tour, Brittany’s kind of become obsessed with making Santana smile. Brittany had been running late, and she wasn’t paying attention when she collided with something solid right in front of the front doors and fell down on her ass, something solid and, Brittany realized through her daze, very, very pretty. The something solid and pretty was also a little dazed from where she sat on the ground, and as her dark, deep eyes focused on Brittany, Brittany’s heart skipped about two beats or ten. There was a brief moment of confusion before they realized they were both there for Mercedes Jones, Santana as a backing singer and Brittany as a dancer, and they quickly introduced themselves as they entered the studio, getting lost together throughout the large building until they eventually stumbled into the correct room, except it was empty. It turned out the rehearsal times had been changed, and they were actually over an hour early, and Brittany knows she was a goner as soon as Santana shot her that dimply, amused smile at the whole situation.

Everyone else seems to be scared of her (except Mercedes, who teases her and calls her _Satan_ without fear and receives fond eye rolls in response), but Brittany notices the awkward way she plays with her hands when she sings and the dorky way she lights up whenever she starts to ramble about something she likes and her dimply smile whenever she hears someone compliment Mercedes in passing and, especially, the way her eyes brightens whenever Brittany smiles at her backstage.

Brittany thinks that Santana Lopez is pretty much the prettiest girl she’s ever seen in her entire life; and Brittany also thinks that she might have pretty much the biggest crush in the world on her.

They’ve been touring together for a couple months now, and as each day passes Brittany starts to feel pretty comfortable in calling Santana her best friend. They generally end up sharing a room, more often than not; but due to a booking error by the management team, they end up two rooms short tonight. Santana ends up on the pullout couch in one room and Brittany ends up on the other one in the conjoining room. Management had split them by singers and dancers, and Brittany’s been staring up at the ceiling and tossing and turning for hours. She likes Sasha and Josie well enough, but she’s gotten so used to hearing Santana’s steady breathing across the room that she feels restless and unmoored without it. When she realizes that it’s nearing three in the morning, and they have an early performance morning, she mutters _screw it_ and throws her blankets off, creeping across the room and easing open the conjoining door. 

She’s surprised to find Santana still awake, curled on her side on the pull-out couch and staring across the room, her dark eyes lit by the streetlights streaming through the side of the curtains. “Britt?” Santana mumbles, and despite the sleepiness to her tone and the exhaustion evident on her features, her eyes are bright and alert.

“I can’t sleep,” Brittany whispers, “Can I sleep here?”

Santana quickly pushes herself into a sitting position and nods eagerly. “Of course, Britt,” she says, and Brittany’s breathe catches at the nickname; no matter how many times she hears it, a small thrill shoots through Brittany every single time.

Santana shifts around and adjusts the nest of blankets she’s in, shoving her pillow over so Brittany will be able to share it. Brittany crosses the room on quiet feet and slides under the blankets that Santana holds up for her. It’s warm underneath the covers as Santana settles them over her; Brittany’s heart is pounding in her ears as she lays her head on the other side of Santana’s pillow, and she’s sure Santana can probably see the blush she feels hot on her face as she snuggles into the warmth Santana left when she made room for Brittany.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” Santana confesses in a whisper. “I’m so used to hearing you snoring on the other side of the room that it feels really weird without it.”

Brittany pinches Santana’s side in retaliation, quickly covering her mouth to stifle the shriek she lets out, giggling quietly and craning her neck to see if they’ve disturbed Emily and Cecilia, but there’s no movement from the beds. “I don’t snore,” Brittany finally retorts as she resettles, and Santana’s sparkling eyes and her hot breath on Brittany’s palm make Brittany’s heart stop.

“Sure you don’t,” Santana mumbles behind Brittany’s hands. Brittany rolls her eyes, but her body quickly tenses in surprise when Santana reaches up for her wrist and tugs her hand away from her face. She tangles their fingers together between their bodies, and Brittany’s pretty sure if it wasn’t so dark she would be able to see Santana blushing. “We should sleep though.”

Brittany squeezes Santana’s hand briefly and smiles gently when Santana’s eyes soften, like molten shadows. “Goodnight, Tana,” she murmurs.

Something flickers in Santana’s eyes, and Brittany wonders if it’s the same thrill Brittany gets when Santana calls her _Britt_. “Goodnight, Britt,” she whispers back. 

Despite how her heart pounds at Santana’s hair tickling her face and Santana’s fingers tangled with hers and the warm solidness of Santana just a couple inches away, Brittany finds she falls asleep quicker than she ever has before.


	2. Ohio

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 6. and 63. “I need a place to stay.” [Cause apparently they’re duplicate prompts.]

When they pass through Ohio on the tour, Mercedes takes a week off to go back to her hometown of Lima, and Santana joins her. It still remains amusing to Brittany that Mercedes and Santana have known each other since they were in elementary school, mostly because Mercedes has her mom send her embarrassing photos of Santana when they were young to show to Brittany, much to Santana’s horrified chagrin. (Brittany would only admit it to herself, but she finds the pictures far more adorable than embarrassing; Santana still has those dimply, chipmunk cheeks when she smiles, and it makes something warm settle on her chest when she realizes it.)

Santana’s on the phone with her mom the night before they’re supposed to land in Columbus, and as soon as she starts pouting Brittany knows that something’s changed. Santana eventually says goodbye to her mom and throws herself backwards on her bed with a groan.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Brittany asks, trying to alleviate the sad heaviness that’s settled over the room. 

Santana scrubs a hand over her face and shakes her head. “My aunt was in a car accident this afternoon, so my mom is on her way to Seattle right now.”

“Oh my god,” Brittany whispers, her stomach twisting, “Is she okay?”

Santana shrugs sadly. “I don’t know. She’s in the hospital right now, but she’s not awake yet so.”

“That’s awful,” Brittany murmurs, her own heart aching for the fear and sadness in her best friend’s voice, “do you need to fly out there?”

Santana stares up at the ceiling and gives the tiniest shake of her head. “We don’t— My mom’s driving because we don’t have enough money to fly there,” she whispers, shifting in embarrassment. 

Brittany knows how much Santana hates asking for help, so she doesn’t mention the fact that Mercedes would fly Santana and her mom out to Seattle without question. “I’m really sorry,” she whispers, and Santana makes a small sound of acknowledgement. Brittany’s never felt more helpless in her life. “Why don’t you just stay here then? If your mom’s not even going to be in Lima?”

“I promised Mercedes I’d go with her, so I’ll just go and, uh, visit my abuela, I guess,” Santana says. Brittany’s heart sinks; she knows how badly Santana’s abuela reacted when she was outed in high school, a story Santana haltingly admitted one night against Brittany’s neck when she woke screaming from a nightmare. Brittany also knows that Santana’s abuela has refused to talk to her for the past three years as well, and she can’t help the heavy feeling Brittany gets in her stomach when she thinks of how much it will hurt Santana if abuela rejects her again. “I mean, it’s been three years. She must have changed by now, right?” Santana asks desperately.

Brittany purses her lips, but knows she can’t offer Santana the comforting words she needs, so instead she just slips out from her covers and crawls into Santana’s bed. Santana sighs as she lets herself be pulled into Brittany’s embrace, nuzzling into Brittany’s neck; Brittany may not have the right words, but she does know how to do this, she knows how to hold Santana until the scary thoughts fade away.

They arrive in Columbus around lunchtime the next day and Santana rents a car to drive her and Mercedes up to Lima, planning to leave around two so they get into Lima before supper. Brittany hugs them both goodbye, her two closest friends on the tour, and worries about Santana as soon as the car pulls out of the parking lot. She putters around her hotel room, but can’t bring herself to go out with some of the other members of the tour, not when her stomach is constantly twisting every time she thinks about Santana. She goes to bed early, but ends up just mindlessly flipping through television channels. It’s the first time Brittany’s had a a room to herself in months and she should be happy, but she finds that she just really misses Santana, sitting on her bed and fondly teasing Brittany, changing the conversation from light to serious and back with the ease of best friends who trust each other with everything.

She hasn’t dozed off, but the knock on her door around ten that night makes her jump. She cautiously creeps to the door because she’s not expecting anyone and she was just in the middle of a _Dateline_ episode. She peeks through the peephole, and her heart stops. Santana stands on the other side, soaked from the rain outside, her shoulders rolled forward with the weight of the world.

Brittany immediately opens the door. “Santana,” she gasps, “What are you doing here?”

Santana sniffles and looks up at Brittany with eyes so dull that Brittany’s heart breaks. “I— She didn’t— She wouldn’t— And there’s no rooms and I—” Santana stutters, “I need a place to stay.”

Brittany shakes her head wordlessly and quickly pulls Santana into her room and into a hug, letting the door swing shut behind them. Santana’s freezing and wet, making goosebumps rise all over Brittany’s body, but Brittany barely notices because Santana’s trembling and sniffling in her arms and Brittany’s not sure she can hold her tight enough to keep her heart together.

“Abuela, she— And I tried— But she just— She said—” Santana stutters brokenly.

“Shh,” Brittany coos, rocking their bodies back and forth, leaning back slightly so she can pull Santana more fully against her. “You don’t have to say anything,” she whispers, and she’s kissing Santana’s forehead before she even realizes it, “I’m here. I know.”

Santana shudders and curls closer to Brittany, and it almost feels like she’s trying to crawl into Brittany’s chest; Brittany wouldn’t mind if she did, because then she knows she could keep her safe. 

“Why didn’t you just call Mercedes?” Brittany eventually whispers.

Santana shakes her head and tightens her arms around Brittany’s waist. “I didn’t— I didn’t even think of it,” she admits quietly, and Brittany can feel Santana’s face heat up against her chest, “I only thought about getting back to you. I just— I just really needed to see you.”

Brittany’s never felt more needed in her entire life, she’s never felt more _loved_ in her entire life. “Well, I have a bag Fuzzy Peaches and mini Reeses Pieces with your name on it. We can rent a movie and stuff our faces and sleep in for the first time in forever since we have nothing planned for tomorrow.”

Santana sighs and smiles so wide Brittany can feel it where Santana’s face is pressed against her chest. “I love you,” Santana mumbles so quietly Brittany almost feels the vibrations of the words more than she actually hears them, and Brittany’s heart _stops_. Everything in Brittany brightens and perks up at the words, butterflies swarming all throughout her body, but Santana doesn’t seem to realize that Brittany’s heard her, because she just cuddles closer to Brittany and murmurs her _thanks_ for letting her stay. Brittany lets out a shaky breath and presses a soft kiss to Santana’s head, content to keep holding Santana as long as she needs to be held.


	3. Columbus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 12. “Please don’t do this.”

Santana’s aunt wakes up the next morning, and Santana’s mom is there when she does. Santana cries with relief when she gets the phone call that, aside from a broken leg and a nasty concussion, her aunt will be just fine, because emotions are hard for her sometimes and Brittany hugs her through it so she finds she doesn’t care that much.

Brittany is amazing, and really, really pretty, and a genius, and her best friend, and she’s maybe just the tinniest bit in love with her. She tries to hide it, but based on the third degree Mercedes gave her yesterday on the way to Lima, she isn’t doing a great job of it; apparently lighting up whenever Brittany walks in a room and touching her constantly and staring at her longingly and cuddling with her all the time means that Santana isn’t the most subtle person.

She calls Mercedes after she talks to her mom and explains everything, and Mercedes is more than sympathetic, despite the fact that Santana just stranded her in Lima; instead she insists on coming back to Columbus that day, but Santana assures her that she’ll be fine because she’s got Brittany, who just left to go get breakfast (which really doesn’t do much for convincing Mercedes that she’s not totally in love with the blonde dancer, and neither does her flaming cheeks when she remembers how she woke up this morning, curled into Brittany’s warm chest, her face partially buried in what are possibly the most comfortable and beautiful boobs on the planet).

Santana lazes around on Brittany’s queen bed while she waits, since she’s in a single room for once, and texts her mom for a bit. She half-heartedly watches an episode of _Say Yes to the Dress_ while she plays dumb games on her phone. When Brittany’s been gone for almost half an hour, Santana decides to take a shower. She spends longer than usual under the hot spray, and when she emerges she smells exactly like Brittany and her stomach swoops a little bit. The mirror’s fogged up and, as Santana dries her body, she realizes that she left her suitcase in the rental car and she really doesn’t want to put on the clothes she travelled yesterday. Over the faint bathroom fan she can hear someone in the room and she smiles.

She opens the door and steps out in a swirl of steam, catching sight of Brittany’s old sneakers kicked off haphazardly beside the front door. The room smells of fresh coffee and breakfast, and Santana’s stomach growls eagerly.

She walks further into the room and her greeting earns her a shriek and a jump as Brittany spins on her heel where she’s standing by the tiny table in the corner. Brittany recovers quickly and offers her own greeting, one that trails off as she takes Santana in. Brittany’s eyes drop to Santana’s chest, where her towel is loosely knotted, and linger on the water drops slipping under the towel before they snap back to Santana’s eyes with cheeks so red Santana worries they might catch fire (a different, very interested, part of her swells with pride at the hazy look in Brittany’s eyes; and that part smirks at Brittany and thoroughly enjoys the way Brittany’s blush stretches all the way to her ears).

“You got breakfast,” Santana says and her smirk turns into a warm smile when she recognizes the bags on the table.

“You’re not dressed,” Brittany says dumbly. She blinks quickly and shakes her head, her mouth parting as she realizes what she just said. “I mean, uh, you, um.”

Santana fidgets and shrugs, quickly remembering herself. “Uh, I left my stuff in the rental car, so uh.”

Brittany chews on her lip and glances at her own suitcase. “You can borrow some of my clothes. It started pouring about five minutes ago and I don’t wanna run out in it and get your suitcase wet so.”

Santana nods because she doesn’t quite trust herself to speak. Wearing Brittany’s clothes is something she’s done before, and every time it makes Santana’s stomach clench in the best way. Brittany paws through her suitcase, emerging with a hoodie and a pair of sweatpants Santana already knows will be too long. Santana murmurs her _thanks_ and retreats to the bathroom, quickly drying off one more time and brushing out her thick hair before stepping into the sweatpants. She has to roll the waist and the hemline, but eventually she gets it to the point where they’ll stay on her hips and she won’t trip over the legs. She pulls on the hoodie and when she breathes in all she can smell is Brittany; her shampoo and body wash and laundry detergent, and it makes Santana a little lightheaded.

When she emerges from the bathroom, Brittany’s eyes are bright and rapt on her, her expression one that Santana’s never seen before but is suddenly desperate to see again. “The continental breakfast was pretty sad,” Brittany says, and she has to clear her throat before she continues, “so I went and got some elsewhere. I also picked up snacks for a movie day because, after yesterday, you deserve some serious relaxation.”

Santana smiles, and Brittany’s eyes instantly drop to her lips and dimples like they always do, before they dart back up to catch on Santana’s eyes. “Thank you,” she says, and emotion chokes her. For the longest time it was just her and her mom and her abuela, and once her abuela disowned her it was just her and her mom and eventually Mercedes that she could trust and rely on or who could cheer her up; at least until she ran headfirst into one Brittany S. Pierce so many months ago. 

Brittany shrugs like it doesn’t matter even though it means the world to Santana. “I got your favourite,” she says softly, and motions Santana to the bed. Santana settles on the right side of the bed, like she always does, and takes the coffee and breakfast sandwich Brittany passes her.

They watch a couple more episodes of _Say Yes to the Dress_ while they eat. Once they finish, they flip through the On Demand movies for almost twenty minutes, looking for something that will hold their attention without being too emotionally demanding. They watch the first part of the movie and snack on the candy Brittany bought, but quickly grow bored and end up teasing each other. Santana’s pretty confident in her ability to hold her own with words, but Brittany likes to fight dirty and before she knows it, she’s flat on her back with Brittany’s hands held threatening above Santana’s sides.

“Please don’t do this,” Santana begs. “I didn’t mean it, you don’t snore. Not at all! I’m the one who snores! I swear, just please don’t!”

Brittany cackles her mock-evil-villain-laugh and immediately starts attacking Santana with her fingers. Santana squirms and shrieks, trying to roll away from her but quickly finds she’s caught between Brittany’s legs. Brittany drags Santana’s hands above her head, holding them in one hand and sitting back on Santana’s thighs slightly to hold her still, quickly dancing her hand along Santana’s ribs and across her stomach and delighting in the bright, honey-sweet giggles that spill from Santana’s lips.

“Stop!” Santana shrieks around her laughter, “Stop and I’ll give you the last of the Fuzzy Peaches!”

Brittany giggles at Santana’s helpless laughter, pausing in her attack. “Promise?”

Santana nods eagerly. “Pinky swear,” she gasps.

Brittany tips her head to the side to think, before grinning down at Santana and nodding her agreement, and it’s only at that moment that she realizes the position they’re in: Santana pinned below her, her hair a complete mess and her eyes shining darkly, Brittany sitting back on her thigh, holding Santana’s hands above her head. She instantly releases Santana’s hands and starts to scramble off her, stuttering out a jumbled apology.

She freezes when Santana’s hands settle gently on her hips and Santana can tell that Brittany’s heart is hammering; she can tell because her own is doing the same thing.

“Britt,” she whispers, and the air around them changes, it charges with energy and hope and just a hint of fear. Brittany swallows thickly and chews on her bottom lip. “Can I—” Santana bites her question off, frustrated when the words don’t come, and breathes in deeply. “I want— Can I—”

Something in Brittany’s eyes changes, something shifts and settles in the bright blue, and Santana feels an echoing tug in her chest. Brittany starts to drop her head towards Santana, slow enough that Santana can stop her if she wants, as if Santana would _ever_ want that.

When Brittany’s lips brush hers, Santana swears her heart stops. She feels bright and floaty and steady, like every single second of her life has built towards this moment, and she feels like this is exactly what she was made to do. The buzzing in her head fades and her heartbeat seems to both speed up and fall steady. Brittany’s lips are warm and chaste and soft as they press against hers; she tastes of coffee and mint toothpaste and bread and candy and, somewhere below all of that, home. Santana sighs into Brittany’s mouth and her hands slowly slide from Brittany’s hips to her lower back, scratching lightly at the skin that’s been revealed by her hoodie riding up. Brittany bites down gently on Santana’s lower lip at the feeling of Santana’s fingers on her skin, and Santana’s never felt more alive.

When Brittany slowly pulls back, Santana’s pretty sure her lips have never been colder at Brittany’s absence. “Hi,” Brittany whispers.

Santana giggles and can’t help it when she tilts her head up for another kiss. “Hi,” she whispers back.

“That was,” Brittany breathes, but she gets a little lost in Santana’s dark eyes and doesn’t finish her sentence.

“Yeah,” Santana agrees, and the smile that spreads across her face is quickly mirrored by Brittany’s. Santana reaches up and cups Brittany’s jaw and just keeps smiling at her, awed and a little disbelieving that, after months of falling in love with Brittany, Brittany seems to have been doing in the same because her eyes are warmer and softer than Santana’s _ever_ seen them, and that smile that Brittany gives her is one that Santana _knows_ is just for her. Brittany presses her mouth to Santana’s again but doesn’t stop smiling, and the kiss ends up being more teeth and thin lips than not, but Santana’s pretty sure there’s never been a better kiss in the history of the world, at least until Brittany kisses her again, and then again, and then again—


	4. Lima

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 13. “You make me feel safe.”

Because Santana kind of stranded Mercedes in Lima, she volunteers to go and pick her up at the end of the week. She’s still renting the car, after all, and she does feel a little guilty for sending Mercedes to hang out with some of their old high school friends without her (not _that_ guilty though, because aside from her mom and Mercedes, Santana would just as soon let that hellhole town fade to the oblivion of her memory).

Brittany insists on coming with her, and Santana’s _definitely_ not going to argue with that, so they pile into the car with some ridiculously priced coffee and Brittany’s iPhone plugged into the speakers and they head for Lima. Santana’s mom is still in Seattle with her aunt, but Santana promised to fly out and see her during the break in the tour in a couple months, so Santana’s hoping that she will be able to slip in and out of Lima undetected.

They make it to Lima in good time, and before she knows it, she’s narrating her childhood to Brittany; the playground where she broke her arm on, the parking lot where she drove her mom’s car for the first time, the schoolyard she took her first drag of a cigarette in, the street corner where she first realized she was definitely, one-hundred precent gay, the stop sign where she failed her drivers test the first time, she even drives past the extravagant neighbourhood she used to live in back when her dad still cared about his family, and then the sketchier neighbourhood her mom raised her in, the one that actually felt like home.

They pull up to Mercedes’ childhood house but Dr. Jones’ car isn’t out front and Santana shrugs in slight disappointment; while she won’t get to see Mercedes’ parents, at least, she thinks as they get out of the car, it means she doesn’t have to spend anymore time in Lima than she has to. Brittany is still excitedly bouncing around at the chance to see where Mercedes and Santana are from. Santana smiles, butterflies fluttering around her when Brittany takes her hand at the front of the car and quickly kisses her on the cheek. Santana lets Brittany pull her up the driveway in a slight daze, she’s pretty positive she’ll never stop getting a thrill every time Brittany does something so simply affectionate.

Brittany rings the doorbell and quickly kisses Santana on the cheek again as they wait. When the door opens, Santana quickly wishes it hadn’t; Quinn Fabray, one of her sort-of-friends and definitely-mortal-enemies from school, stands on the other side with a lazy smile. Her eyes dart down to Brittany’s hand clasped in Santana’s, and Santana’s stomach twists painfully at the smirk that spreads across her face. It wasn’t necessarily that Quinn was ever outright homophobic to her, it’s just that being gay was something of a weakness in this town, and Quinn loved exploiting all of Santana’s weaknesses back in high school to wrestle the title of head of the school away from Santana.

“Lopez,” Quinn says in that haughty, snide way of hers. “I see you’ve graced Lima with your presence for the second time this week.”

Santana stiffens; she knows Mercedes wouldn’t have said anything, but small towns have a way of knowing your business, no matter how hard you hide it. “Fabray,” Santana greets coldly. She feels Brittany squeeze her hands reassuringly, and when she glances up at Brittany, her normally expressive blue eyes are colder than Santana’s ever seen them. “Britt, this is Quinn Fabray,” Santana introduces, “we went to high school together. Quinn, this is my girlfriend, Brittany.” (Despite the circumstances, warmth swells in Santana’s chest at the world; Brittany is her _girlfriend_ , something she’s been secretly hoping for since just about the first time they met. Based on the thawing in Brittany’s eyes and the small, adoring smile she shoots Santana, Santana’s pretty sure Brittany feels the same.)

“Girlfriend?” Quinn asks, and though she laughs there’s a slight, bitter edge to it. “But you’re such a bitch.”

Santana can feel Brittany bristle beside her, and she quickly runs her thumb over the back of Brittany’s hand to soothe her.

“I can see you haven’t changed at all, Quinn,” Santana says quietly. Santana has been out since her senior year of high school, and despite her mom’s love and support and Mercedes’ friendship and the fact that she’s been all over the country, she still just feels small and scared in Lima; she knows that Quinn could so easily make a her visiting girlfriend a big deal, and the last thing she wants is to the the buzz of Lima again. She’s been beat down and bullied by this town enough and she desperately wants to avoid that this time.

Brittany’s holding her hand and she’s not ashamed of who she is, not anymore, but she’s also not stupid.

Quinn stiffens and Santana can barely start to brace herself for the verbal attack she knows is coming before Mercedes pops up beside Quinn and lays a friendly but firm hand on her shoulder.

“Sorry, Quinn,” Mercedes says with an easy smile, “We gotta get going if we wanna sleep before our flight tomorrow morning.” Mercedes quickly hugs Quinn and ushers her out the door and to her car across the street. Once Quinn has pulled away and Santana has relaxed, Mercedes locks up her parents’ house and tosses her suitcase in the back of the car rental before climbing in. 

As soon as they’re all in and buckled up, Mercedes shakes her head. “Lord, I love that girl,” she says, “but _Jesus_ she needs to get out of this town.”

Santana chokes on a laugh as she pulls away from the Jones’ house. Mercedes spends almost the entire way back to Columbus affectionately teasing Santana and Brittany, over the moon happy for two of her best friends. Mercedes tells them how glad she is that they could drag themselves out of the hotel room to pick her up and ignores their blushing protests (they spent most of the week holed up in the hotel room, only emerging for food and to prove to the other tour members that they are still alive, but they didn’t spend _all_ of their time in their room having sex, but it— they did spend a good portion of their time doing that).

They stop for a quick supper on the outskirts of Columbus before heading to their hotel by the airport. While Santana and Brittany both kind of just want to curl up in their bed, they are eventually cajoled into going out with the tour members for one last night in Columbus; though they just end up cuddling in a corner booth and nursing a couple of beers like a couple of old ladies anyways, much to everyone’s amusement.

Santana is curled in Brittany’s lap, one arm around her shoulders and the other clutching at where Brittany’s hoodie covers her hip, her nose nuzzled in Brittany’s neck. Brittany has one arm supporting Santana’s lower back and she’s tracing patterns along Santana’s thighs, which are thrown over her lap, and making Santana even sleepier, when she suddenly pauses in her ministrations to speak.

“Everyone always calls you a bitch or says you’re mean like Quinn today or whatever,” Brittany says, “But I just don’t get it. You’ve never been anything but soft since I’ve known you.”

Santana shrugs and nuzzles into Brittany’s side. “I was— I was really mean back in high school because I was so scared. And then I got outed and— Well, I laid pretty low after that. But Mercedes,” Santana hesitates and smiles a little. “Well, there’s a reason she’s still one of my best friends even after high school.”

Brittany smiles and something warm bubbles up inside her; she loves Mercedes, but now she appreciates her friend even more than before.

“Anyways,” Santana continues, “as I got more comfortable with myself it got easier to not have to be scared and mean. But sometimes I still am, in new situations and stuff, old habits or whatever. That’s why some people here think I’m a bitch.”

Brittany chews on her bottom lip and absently runs her hand down Santana’s leg, only really noting how Santana stretches slightly and curls further into her. “You’ve never been mean to me. Even when I accidentally shoved you to the ground the first time we met.”

Santana smiles up at Brittany, all dimples and deep eyes and scrunched nose. “You make me feel safe,” Santana whispers easily, “You’ve always made me feel safe.” Santana tightens her grip on Brittany’s hoodie, tugging herself even closer so she’s curled over Brittany. Her eyes are bright and adoring and Brittany shakes her head, biting down on her lip so she doesn’t do something insane like ask Santana to marry her right this second. Instead, she kisses Santana, quick and deep and _perfect_.

Santana’s smile is wide when she pulls back and she presses her forehead to Brittany’s, their noses bumping together; Santana’s smile turns from sappy to mischievous even as it remains adoring. “Even when you make wrong turns and get us stuck in the basement,” she teases.

“Hey!” Brittany laughs, still partially recovering from the butterflies that are swirling through her at Santana’s words and kiss, “You said you thought the rehearsal room might be downstairs, so I took us downstairs.”

“Cause we were on the forth floor and everything was locked!” Santana protests around her giggles. “There was no more up! It had to be downstairs.”

“The basement _is_ downstairs!”  
“I didn’t mean _that_ far downstairs!”

Brittany just kisses Santana instead of arguing, and considering the sigh Santana releases into her mouth, she’s pretty sure that, despite losing that argument, she just won something much more important.


	5. Louisville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 75. “Do you have a problem with me?"

After Columbus, the tour is heading to Louisville, and Santana groans the entire cab ride to the airport (Brittany just fondly rolls her eyes and humours Santana with sympathetic nods andfalls a little more in love with her all over again). Brittany’s not quite sure what Santana has against Louisville, but she’s sure she’ll find out soon enough. 

They make it through security easily, and Santana’s heart flutters a little when Brittany takes her hand as soon as she finishes slipping her shoes back on. They wait beside their carryons for the rest of the tour members to make it through. Santana plays with Brittany’s fingers and tries really hard to not blurt to the entire airport how much she loves the girl holding her hand. Brittany keeps smiling at Santana and it makes Santana’s heart pound and she curls closer to her. 

Mercedes make it through next, and she gives Santana and Brittany an affectionate smile, cooing over the two of them. It makes Santana’s face flame with a blush and she turns her head to hide her face in Brittany’s shoulder. For someone who acts so tough, Brittany knows, Santana’s _so_ easy to fluster.

Once everyone makes it through, they scatter to grab snacks and drinks and magazines for the plane ride. Santana and Brittany stop for a couple coffees before heading straight to their gate. They find a mostly secluded corner, only a couple of people scattered around, mostly all with their headphones in. Brittany drops their carryons on the seat beside them and collapses with an exaggerated groan.

“What’s up, buttercup?” Santana asks, kissing Brittany on the forehead as she sits down beside her. Brittany lets her head loll back and gently grabs Santana’s legs to draw them up into her lap. It takes a little bit of maneuvering, what with the bar separating their uncomfortable seats, but eventually they get settled; Santana’s legs thrown over the bar and into Brittany’s lap, one hand playing with Brittany’s hair and the other one stroking over Brittany’s arm, Brittany’s fingertips playing with the hem of Santana’s jeans and being incredibly distracting as she teases the skin of Santana’s ankles and shins.

“I just hate,” Brittany whines, drawing the word out until Santana giggles, “Louisville so much.”

“Oh hush,” Santana complains with a fond eye roll. “I have my reasons.”

Brittany grins and tugs teasingly on the hem of Santana’s pants before her face softens. “What reasons?” she asks gently, and Santana has to bite down on her lip so she doesn’t announce to the whole airport that this girl is amazing and perfect and she’s deeply in love with her.

“It’s nothing serious,” Santana quickly reassures her. “I just— It’s kind of, um, dumb, I guess.”

“I’m sure it’s not dumb. And I won’t laugh, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Brittany promises earnestly and Santana wants to lean over and kiss her, but she’s not quite that flexible so she settles for delicately tucking some stray strands of blonde hair that have escaped Brittany’s ponytail back behind her ear. 

“I know you won’t,” Santana assures, and she only hesitates for a moment about how to explain. “After I graduated I went to Louisville for a semester on a cheerleading scholarship. It was absolutely awful. My coach was a psycho, I didn’t like any of my classes since I had to take them to maintain my scholarship and not ones I wanted to take, my roommate was crazy homophobic, and I didn’t know anyone in Louisville so I spent most of my time in my room with said homophobic roommate.”

“That really sucks,” Brittany murmurs.

Santana just nods. “I thought I got over all that internalized homophobia in my senior year, but spending so much time with her, it just— It messed me up for a while. It took a couple years for me to get to a better place again but— I mean, moving away from Ohio is probably the best thing I’ve ever done. I’m really thankful to Mercedes for offering me a place in L.A., because I think I’d still be stuck in Louisville, or worse, in Lima.”

Brittany studies Santana carefully, and asks a question with her eyes. Santana smiles, because this girl, seriously, _this girl_ ; this girl who’s so careful and considerate and gentle with Santana’s heart, this girl who’s always reached out to steady Santana when she needs it and gently tease her back to herself when she loses it, this girl who loves Santana so well even though they’ve yet to say it out loud.

Brittany’s soft smile stretches into a smirk and her eyes crinkle in amusement. “And here I thought I had to worry about a line of broken hearted exes,” she teases.

Santana lets out a peel of surprised laughter and shakes her head. “I wasn’t even in Louisville long enough to have _a_ girlfriend, let alone a line of them you have to worry about.”

Brittany’s eyes trail suggestively over Santana’s body, and Santana’s suddenly even more thankful than she was earlier that her skin mostly hides her blushing cheeks. There are some things she can’t hide though, like how she automatically ducks her head and averts her eyes and smiles until her cheeks dimple. “Not even one?” Brittany asks lowly, and the implication in her voice sends heat curling high in Santana’s cheeks and low in her belly, “I find that hard to believe.”

“Well,” Santana hesitates and bites on her lip, watching adoringly when Brittany’s eyes light up in curious mischief, “There was one girl, I guess.”

“Oooh, do tell.” Brittany releases Santana’s ankles and rests her chin in the hand she has propped on Santana’s shin with a wide grin.

Santana rolls her eyes as she reminisces. “I met her in the library, which was probably my first warning sign. Nothing good ever comes from me going to the library.”

“Really?” Brittany asks, wrinkling her nose skeptically, and Santana can’t resist twisting as far as she can to kiss Brittany on her nose. 

“Remember Washington?”

“Of course.”

“That’s the least weird thing to happen to me.”

Brittany puffs out a short, bright laugh. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Santana agrees solemnly, until her face breaks into a smile again.

“So you just have _an_ crazy ex, not a whole line of them?” Brittany clarifies, and Santana pinches the back of Brittany’s neck in retaliation when she sees the teasing glint in those blue eyes.

Brittany swats at Santana but she just keeps smiling. “She was never my girlfriend,” Santana laughs, “I went on one date with her and she just _stared_ at me the entire time.”

There’s a glint in Brittany’s eyes as she opens them wide and leers at Santana. “Like this?” she teases around a wide grin.

“Oh shove it, you goof,” Santana complains, pushing Brittany’s face away from hers. Brittany just keeps staring at her until Santana bursts into giggles. Brittany grins proudly at Santana as they relax, cuddling and quietly people watching.

“I gotta pee, babe,” Brittany says suddenly as she gently pushes Santana’s legs off her to stand and stretch. 

“Gross,” Santana laughs. Inwardly, she’s fluttery and bubbly because she actually kinda really loves how comfortable her and Britt are, how much things haven’t really changed since they started dating, how Brittany’s still her very best friend, how she doesn’t have to pretend to be somebody else with the woman she loves.

“You love me though,” Brittany whispers, and Santana’s heart jumps out of her chest like it’s trying to crawl into Brittany’s. There is bright hope and fear swimming in Brittany’s clear, blue eyes, and Santana can’t help the smile that spreads across her face, dimpling her cheeks until Brittany’s own smile starts to grow.

Santana tugs on the strings of Brittany’s hoodie until their lips are a breath apart. “I do,” she sighs into Brittany’s mouth. Brittany’s eyelashes flutter against her cheekbones as her mouth moves over Santana’s, and Santana can feel her heartbeat thrum in her fingertips as she brushes them over Brittany’s jaw.

It’s only after Brittany’s heading down the hallway to the bathroom that Santana becomes aware of the woman sitting a couple seats down from her. She has a dark, heavy glare that makes Santana’s skin crawl, and she keeps scowling and making this annoyed, huffing sound every time she catches Santana’s eye. There’s this awful, unfounded hate smouldering in her eyes and Santana already knows what her problem is, because she knows that she’s going to be facing this particular brand of hate for the rest of, or at least most of, her life, and she _wishes_ it wasn’t so normalized. Her young son sits beside her, absorbed in whatever iPad game he’s playing, completely oblivious to his mother’s growing disgust. 

Santana feels sick to her stomach but she takes a deep breath and scowls back at the woman. “Do you have a problem with me?” she snaps.

The woman’s spine straightens and she huffs as she draws herself up. “Yeah, actually, I do. I don’t think my son should be subjected to your sin. You’re disgusting.”

Santana _hates_ that she feels tears spring to her eyes in response. “I don’t think your son should be subjected to your ridiculous hate,” she growls.

The woman’s response is interrupted by an announcement for the plane’s boarding. Santana stands quickly and grabs both her carryon and Brittany’s before storming away. She quickly texts Brittany that they’ll be boarding soon. Santana glowers at the entire airport as she stalks down the short stretch of chairs to the gate, and she feels something gross and dark fester deep in her stomach. No matter how many times she witnesses homophobia firsthand, it still manages to take her completely by surprise.

Mercedes catches her eye at the gate and her face contorts in confused worry as she makes a move to head over to Santana, but Santana shakes her head, because she’s pretty sure if someone talks to her right now she might just completely snap.

But then Brittany’s there beside her, slipping her hand into Santana’s and grinning widely, and Santana feels the tension drain from shoulders and that dark thing in her stomach start to ease. No matter what some ugly, hateful stranger in an Ohio airport thinks, this girl holding her hand _loves_ her, who became her best friend in the whole world from that very first smile, and who very quickly became Santana’s whole world not long after that, and they have friends who support them and think they’re adorable, and Santana knows that ugly, hateful hags will never be able to take that from her.


	6. Nashville

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous asked: 23. “Babe, I’m sorry.” // “Suck my ass.”

Santana is not really a runner, Brittany knows this about her girlfriend and she loves and accepts it, and she stopped trying to prod Santana into waking up before sunrise to go and do exercise _long_ before they became girlfriends. 

Which is why, after a couple days of being in Nashville, Brittany’s surprised to wake up on one of their day off to a room still dark without the sunrise through the blinds and Santana hovering over her, waking her up with soft kisses across her cheek and jaw and nose. 

Brittany hums as Santana realizes she’s awake and kisses her with a closed mouth; Brittany doesn’t really care about morning breath but it’s cute that Santana is always mindful of it. “Why are you awake?” she mumbles against Santana’s lips.

“I was thinking maybe we could go for a run?” Santana murmurs, and Brittany’s suddenly wide awake. Santana hovers above her, and Brittany care barely see her so she carefully rolls Santana back until she can hover above her instead, the harsh, red light of the alarm clock cutting through the curtain of Brittany’s blonde hair around them like it doesn’t through Santana’s dark waves.

“Really?” Brittany asks softly. 

“Yeah, I mean,” Santana mumbles, nervously playing with the tips of Brittany’s hair, “Micah was saying how he never sees me do anything you, you know, like to do and he said—”

Brittany shuts Santana up with a firm, deep kiss. She’s never listened to whatever dumb things come out of Micah’s mouth, and she’s not about to start now, especially when those dumb things don’t even make any sense. “Who cares what Micah says,” Brittany says breathlessly when she pulls back. 

Santana’s dazed and dreamy, but her eyes sharpen and grow small and Brittany knows she can’t kiss it away this time. “It’s just— He’s right. I don’t, like, go on a run with you every morning or whatever even though you always ask me to and I feel bad about it and I want to start doing stuff you like to do more.”

“That’s so sweet,” Brittany murmurs, “But you don’t need to. Micah doesn’t know about all the other really awesome stuff you do for me or with me because he’s an idiot with poor eyesight.” Santana giggles a little and Brittany grins as the tension starts to drain out of Santana’s jaw and from the creases beneath her eyes. “Our relationship is between us and _I_ know you love me, so much, and I don’t care what anyone else thinks about it.”

“Really?” Santana breathes, and she’s so shy and unsure that something deep in Brittany’s chest flutters and brightens and she’s pretty sure it’s the feeling of falling in love with Santana all over again.

“Really, really,” Brittany promises, ducking down until she can breathe her promises right into Santana’s warm mouth.

“So we don’t have to, like, be that couple that goes running together every morning, because I’d do it—” Santana swears, but Brittany cuts her off with another kiss.

“But you’d hate it,” Brittany mumbles, and Santana relaxes completely. 

“Sleep?” Santana suggests against Brittany’s lips.

Brittany laughs and draws back with a sly smirk, Santana trying to follow her lips and whining petulantly when Brittany pulls out of her reach. “Oh no, you woke me up for a run. You’re free every other time but you’re not getting off the hook today.”

Santana gives an exaggerated groans and flops back on the bed.

The sun is only barely hinting at rising when they step outside of the hotel, Brittany in her running clothes and Santana in her rehearsal clothes because it’s the closest she has to exercise clothes she has, the city still and quiet in the early morning before it wakes back up. Brittany turns them in the direction of the park she found the first day here, and she quickly leads Santana in a couple of stretches; Brittany knows how important stretching is, but she maybe spends a little longer than usual so she can admire the distracting movement of Santana’s muscles under her loose tank.

Brittany goes slower than she usually would, teasing and gloating Santana the entire way while Santana sends mock annoyed glares at her the entire morning. The sun is only just starting to peak over the horizon by the time they reach the park, bathing the city in murky pink light and starting to burn away the tendrils of fog clinging to the edges of the park where the trees grow close and gnarled. 

“Race you to that big tree,” Brittany says suddenly, pointing to the other end of the part and smirking at Santana while she bounces on her toes, “Loser has to do whatever the winner wan—” She doesn’t even make it through her bet before Santana’s sprinting towards the tree and leaving Brittany dumbfounded for a moment before she takes off after her, shrieking her “Cheater!” and only receiving wild, breathless laughter in response.

Brittany has the advantage of longer legs and the fact that she actually goes running a lot, and she quickly starts closing the gap between them but she doesn’t quite have Santana’s determined, competitive nature when it comes to winning bets, and Santana manages to stay just ahead of her. She doesn’t slow down at all, and Brittany doesn’t pay attention to the ground as Santana leads her across the grass and before she knows it her foot catches on a root and she goes tumbling into Santana in a tangle of limbs and shrieks. Brittany manages to catch Santana and pull her against her body as they crash to the ground, mostly absorbing Santana’s fall against her torso, both of them groaning as they thud to a stop against the grass.

“Babe, I’m sorry,” Brittany gasps, frantically running her hands across Santana’s body and searching for broken limbs.

“Suck my ass,” Santana wheezes as she rolls off of Brittany, and as soon as they catch each other’s eyes they both burst into bright, uncontrollable giggles, made worse by the fact that both of them are still winded from their crash. 

“Are you okay?” Brittany eventually manages to ask around her pants for breathe, and Santana quickly nods her head, still giggling.

“This is it,” she gasps, “This is the the first _and_ the last time we go for a run together.”

Brittany just laughs and rolls towards Santana, draping her sweaty body over Santana’s, blades of grass sticking to their skin and making it itch. Santana is over-warm with Brittany against her and still out of breath and her legs ache and her throat is painfully dry and it’s still too goddamn early to be out of bed and, with Brittany’s giggles in her ear, she’s happier than she’s ever been.


End file.
